


The Hardest Way

by Ray_War_lover



Category: due South
Genre: Bad!Ben, F/M, M/M, off screen character death, psychotic Fraser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:12:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4367939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ray_War_lover/pseuds/Ray_War_lover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>What if Fraser was more like Patrick Kelly from Murder Most Likely, and less like OFM? What if Fraser was really, really bad?</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Hardest Way

**Author's Note:**

> What if Fraser was more like Patrick Kelly from Murder Most Likely, and less like OFM? What if Fraser was really, really bad?

The post was late that morning. By the time it arrived Ray had missed his window of opportunity, and didn’t have time to read it until his day’s work was over. There was a letter from Chicago, Ben’s neat handwriting plainly visible. Ray held onto the promise of reading that letter all day long. Ray nearly read it when the nurse came to relieve him and give his mother a bed bath. But then Mom was crying. “Stanley, where’s Stanley?” and Ray had to go to her.

Later on it was even worse. “Damien, where’s Damien?”

“He’s at work Mom,” Ray lied. “He’ll be home later.”

No surprises though – even sick and delirious she knew better than to call for Simon. If she had called for his brother it would probably have broken Ray’s heart.

In the end Ray didn’t get to read his letter until after he had given his mother her night time meds. Her face smoothed out under the influence of the morphine, and he stroked the hair back from her forehead, feeling hopelessly tender. She should be out for at least six hours. He wouldn’t sleep that well, but this wasn’t about him anymore.

Finally he sat, curled around a mug of cocoa, and opened the letter. Fraser had been good, writing to him every day, since he knew Ray wouldn’t always be able to pick up the phone.

The letter was much the same as usual – rambling, learned, poignant and funny in places. Ray smiled at the latest adventures of Frannie’s youngest. That kid was a ditz like his mother, and like his mother was kind and funny with it. Apparently he was taking snails home this week and trying to ‘tame them’ so he could have ‘a snail army come the apocalypse.’ Ray rolled his eyes and caught himself actually laughing. He’d tell Mom about it tomorrow, if she was coherent enough.

But then, at the end of the letter, Fraser’s narrative wandered even more than usual. His hand trailed, then the loops in the letters got tighter. If this was a conversation, Ben would be putting the Mountie Mask on, or saying ‘Look, Turtles,’ in an effort to distract him. Ray turned the page. ‘Spit it out, Ben,’ he thought, then wished he hadn’t.

“Ray, I am not well versed in matters of the heart, and I am reluctant to make a less than charitable comment – but I do need your insight. I get the feeling – I may be mistaken, I hope I am – but I get the feeling – or impression perhaps, or – oh hell. Maybe I have a hole in my bag of marbles, but I think Ray is jealous of us.”

“Fuck.” Ray stared at the letter and his hands started shaking.  
***

Benny was looking tired these days. Ray was worried about him. Hell, he always worried about him. Seemed like Benny always chose the hardest way to do things. Yeah, Kowalski didn’t seem like that bad a guy, not really. But being a gay cop wasn’t something Ray would have wanted for Benny. Not that he minded gay guys. Benny was gay, and he loved him. No, it was just, life wasn’t going to work out the way he would have wanted for Benny. He would never have any little Mountie kids to be precocious, and obnoxious, and drive their Italian uncle mad. Benny always had to choose the hardest way.

This thing with Kowalski’s Mom was hard too. Ray felt for Kowalski – he knew what it was like to see your mother through her last illness, but he felt for Benny too. Because Benny loved Barbara Kowalski, like he’d loved Ma. And it had to be hard for him, to see anyone’s mother die – he’d only just come to terms, sort of, with his own mother’s death. And that was decades ago. Of course Benny was down. He wanted to go look after Barbara, but he was running the consulate these days. It wasn’t like Canada would let him up and cross the country to help care for a woman he wasn’t even an in-law too. Not for the first time Ray fumed at the fact that Benny couldn’t just marry the scruffy Polack.

Anyway. Benny was looking tired. And Ray was tired of seeing that sad worn look on his face. He was going to take him out for dinner.  
***

Fraser was bored. Work was boring, and Chicago was even more boring than usual, what with Ray the second being at the wrong end of the country. He couldn’t even summon up the energy to find someone else to fuck, though if this carried on much longer he might just have to. Really, if it wasn’t for Ray the first he would have nothing to do.

He couldn’t fuck Vecchio, of course, but he could fuck with him. That might be fun...  
***

“So, anyway – kid calls the last snail ‘Turnbull,’ because he has him living in a cardboard box. Next morning, the snail’s escaped. ‘Why don’t the snails like me?’ he says. And Frannie says ‘it’s not you. Maybe they don’t like the cardboard box.’ So now he’s fighting with his sister, because he wants to set up her doll’s house as a ranch for snails...” Ray’s voice trailed off. “Benny? You’ve hardly touched your food. You alright?”

“Oh, oh. Yes.” Fraser cut his meat, then raised generous portion to his mouth, masticated thoroughly, and made a show of enjoying it.

He actually was enjoying it, but he was enjoying putting on a show more. Ray would probably think he was putting a brave face on things.

Right on cue Ray took the bait.

“Benny?” He leaned across the table with a look of concern. “I know you’re missing Kowalski, and you’re sad about his Mom, but you know you can talk to me?”

Fraser sighed, and put down his knife and fork. “That’s just it,” he said, with what he knew was a good imitation of regret. “I can’t.”

“What?” A flash of hurt flickered across Ray’s face. “You don’t trust me?”

“No, no, that’s not it. I trust you, of course, it’s just...” Fraser sighed again, and closed his eyes. When he opened them he smiled sadly. “I’m sad about Barbara,” he said. That was the expected thing to say. Normal people would feel sorry about such things.

Normal people were really such sheep.

“Yeah, I know Benny.” Ray reached across the table and patted his hand. What a shame there was nobody to see the gesture and misinterpret it. It would drive his other Ray mad. He hadn’t got back to Chicago yet.

“Thank you, Ray. And...” Fraser schooled his expression to one of noble stoicism. “It’s nothing, really. I’m being oversensitive, I think. Or... paranoid.”

Ray leaned back in his seat, food forgotten, and folded his arms. One foot tapped up and down beneath the table. “Well, give me a clue. Is it work?”

“Work is fine.” Fraser paused, and shrugged. “Well, it’s not exactly challenging, but the problem isn’t work.

Ray’s eyes narrowed. “So, it’s some relationship thing? You and Kowalski?”

Fraser carefully averted his glance and didn’t say a word.

“Awh, Benny,” Ray said. “Don’t feel bad. Look, it’s okay to miss him. He’ll be back soon...”

“Yes,” Fraser said tightly. “Now that his mother is dead. Something to look forward to.”

“Jeeze, Benny, I didn’t mean that...”

“No, it’s alright. And that’s not really it either.”

“Well, what is it then?”

Fraser looked sadly at his plate. “This is hard for me, but...”

“What?”

“Well, he’s always had a volatile temper. And, since his mother died we’ve spoken on the phone a few times. And he’s been very...” Fraser let his voice trail off. “Well, it doesn’t matter.”

“Guy just lost his mother. ‘Course he’s upset.”

“Yes, yes. You’re right of course.” Fraser started eating hurriedly, not meeting Ray’s eyes. “You know, this is very good...”

“Hang on. What’s going on?” Ray looked like he was trying hard not to glare. “What do you mean ‘volatile’?”

“Just – well, short tempered.”

“I was too, when Ma died.”

“Yes. Of course. I’m sure that’s it. He doesn’t handle stress well. There was that time when – well. It doesn’t matter.”

Ray didn’t say anything for a long time. Fraser waited it out, staring down at his plate and pushing his food around on it. Three, two, one...

“Okay, that time when what?”

“Oh,” Fraser closed his eyes, as though cornered. He cleared his throat, and said in a very little voice, “He only hit me once.”

“He _what?”_  
***

 

“Frase,” Francesca tugged him into the kitchen, her eyes wide with alarm. In the living room the Rays were yelling at each other. Joey was under the table, playing with slugs oblivious to the adults. Fraser chose to ignore the little brat. “I just gotta warn you...”

“Warn me what, Francesca?” ‘Stupid woman – does she think I can’t hear them?’

“You got to stay out of their way.”

“Who’s way?”

“Uh – Ray and Ray’s way. I mean, Ray and Ray and Ray’s way. I mean – oh, you know what I mean.”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Look, they’re fighting.”

“They often lock horns. I’m sure they’ll sort it out.”

“I don’t know. They’re saying some terrible things. Ray thinks Ray is chasing you and Ray thinks Ray is battering you, and...” Francesa stopped talking, her eyes widening with alarm. “None of it’s true, is it?”

Fraser coughed, and tugged his collar. “Thank you for your concern, Francesca. I’ll just...”

“Oh my God! It’s a gay love triangle! My brother’s after you! Don’t tell me you guys were dating? All that time I was chasing you, you were interested in him all along?”

Fraser paused. He hadn’t considered this possibility but... Might as well explore it...

He glanced at the kitchen door, then dropped his voice.

“I’m sorry, Francesca. I know how you felt about me and – well – I couldn’t act on my own feelings. I didn’t want to hurt your brother. And...”

“You had feelings for me? Not for my brother?”

Fraser let his hand drift up and caress her cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut, and he touched her lip lightly with his thumb.

“No, Francesca,” he murmured. “He was the wrong Vecchio.”

‘Well,’ he thought, smugly, as he leaned into the kiss. ‘This could get very interesting indeed.’

**Author's Note:**

> This one is dedicated to the dS troll, under whatever name she is travelling by these days.


End file.
